


Sweet Desire

by old_gods_of_asgard



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/old_gods_of_asgard/pseuds/old_gods_of_asgard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce cleared his throat. “I’m very happy for you, you know.” He said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie; then, as an afterthought, he added: “You deserve the best.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Desire

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting here. I've actually wanted to for a little while, but there's so many good works, I felt a little intimidated. Hope you guys enjoy it. :)

Bruce had a feeling they were doing it on purpose, just to piss him off. 

Clint and Steve had, in the past few months, grown closer and closer until they stopped being friends and started being fuck buddies, and then stopped being fuck buddies and started being a real relationship. Everyone had their opinions about it. Natasha approved, because she approved of just about everything Clint did and vice versa, Agent Hill thought it was unprofessional and dangerous, Tony mocked it, but even he thought it was great, Fury didn’t give a shit as long as they didn’t fuck up a mission, and Bruce, well…

He watched with angry eyes as Steve grabbed Clint’s arm and pulled him back, whirling him around until their chests were pushed together. Steve wrapped his arms around Clint’s waist and leaned down, first whispering something into Clint’s ear that made him smile way too hard and lean down to hide his laugh, and then turned and kissed him. Bruce knew he should be happy for them, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. 

Instead his hands gripped the edge of the table as he stared out of the lab window, rage boiling hard inside him like water in a pot with a too-large lid. He had to turn away, feeling like he was going to puke if he kept watching. They were something out of a sickeningly sweet romantic comedy with stupid puppy-love eyes and lingering touches, always sitting close enough to hold hands under the table during debriefings. They fit together like a puzzle that was painstakingly put together, a puzzle that Bruce would feel immense satisfaction tearing apart. 

But he didn’t interfere in their affairs, ever. He kept to himself, locked up in his lab like a rat in its cage. He busied himself with projects and diagrams and experiments, taking refuge in chemical compounds and complex equations. It was small satisfaction to him that this was something that impressed Clint, something Steve could never do. 

The satisfaction never lasted long, though, especially not now, especially not fresh off a rage-high from seeing them together. He tore his glasses off and tossed them across the table, slamming his elbows down and rubbing his face with his hands. 

Clearing his throat and silently cursing Tony for the stupidity of a window to nowhere in his lab, he called out, “JARVIS? Can you…I don’t know, can you do stuff?” 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, sir,” JARVIS returned, and Bruce grunted. “Would you like me to play a song? Sing one, perhaps?” 

“Yes,” he replied, then thought. “No. I mean, yes. Can you play me some music? Something relaxing?” 

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS answered, and after a few seconds the room echoed with soft strings. Bruce didn’t pretend to know what it was, and instead tried to relax as it played out, bouncing off the walls smoothly and soothingly. 

He stayed like that, with his shoulders hunched, breathing in the scent of his hands, for a time, and only sat up when he heard a throat clearing itself. Bruce turned and found Clint standing in the door, holding two cups of coffee and wearing pajamas-Steve’s pajamas, he noted, with a bit of annoyance. Bruce felt snark building up on his tongue. Instead he took the mug that was offered him and asked, “Enjoy your date?” 

Clint smiled and sat at a stool across from him, knees on the second bar and pushed together. It made him look smaller. “Very much. We scrapped plans for a movie because it was too crowded and sat in the restaurant the whole time. That man is spilling over with stories.” 

Bruce nodded and only made an “mmm” sound as he sipped, being as noisy as he could. It brought forth a slight chuckle from Clint, but nothing more, as the archer was too busy staring at Bruce’s knees. Bruce cleared his throat. “I’m very happy for you, you know.” He said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie; then, as an afterthought, he added: “You deserve the best.” 

This definitely wasn’t a lie, and it brought a big, beautiful smile to Clint’s face. “You really think so?” 

“Of course,” Bruce replied, shrugging. “You’re my friend. I want you to be happy.” 

Clint nodded at this, taking a thoughtful sip. “He does make me happy.” 

Bruce forced a smile and nodded. “Good,” he turned back to his work. “You should probably get to bed, I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.” 

“He’s taking a shower. I can stay a little bit longer.” Clint replied and hopped up, heading over to Bruce’s little work area. He picked up a notebook Bruce’d scribbled in, clearly attempting to understand it. When his face scrunched up in clear, adorable confusion, Bruce chuckled and took the notebook from him. 

“Perhaps it’s best you wait till you’re not already half asleep,” he suggested. “I can tell you all about this in the morning.” Clint grinned at him. “Go on, I’m about to pack up here, anyway.” He held out his arm, catching Clint around the waist before he could move; he was at least going to allow himself this. 

Clint took the hint and wrapped his arms around Bruce, the embrace causing his face to bury directly in the archer’s chest. Bruce breathed him in, marveled at his warmth and his sweet scent for just a few glorious seconds as Clint bade him goodnight. It wasn’t much. But it was all he’d allow himself. 

Maybe, he figured, it was better this way. Clint wasn’t in as much danger around Bruce as he would be. Bruce couldn’t account for his safety if the Hulk randomly showed up to play. Clint was still just a regular human, and Steve could do a better job of protecting him when his arrows couldn’t. Bruce just had to accept that. 

“Shall I go back to playing music, sir?” JARVIS suddenly asked. Sometimes, Bruce thought Tony had programmed him to be telepathic. 

“Yes,” Bruce replied. He let out a long, pained sigh, then sat up grabbed his notebook. “I’m going to need it.”


End file.
